


New Wonderland

by Cassplay



Category: American McGee's Alice, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abandoned because of Hexit, Alice in Wonderland References, Alternate Universe - Alice in Wonderland Fusion, F/F, Female Harry Potter, Harry Exit, Like Brexit, Mental Illness, Trans Female Character, because JKR is a terf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26245249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassplay/pseuds/Cassplay
Summary: Discontinued Alice/Femharry fic.'Harry' has never had time to be herself. The day after Voldemort's death, she finally gets the chance when she trips over the top step up to the dormitories.Waking in a mysterious world made from her dreams, hopes, and fears, who would ever want to wake up?More than a hundred years have passed since Alice became trapped in the broken wonderland. Unaging and in her own mind, who would possibly want to stay here?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Alice Liddel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. The Grove

**Author's Note:**

> Was planning to post when I was finished but decided not to put any more effort into fanfic for an author who hates me.  
> I had 6 chapters written, and figured I should post it here so someone can enjoy it because I can't anymore.
> 
> House elves don’t exist in this fic because the story isn’t about their rights and the ‘magic symbiotes’ explanation for why everyone is okay with them is just eugh. 
> 
> cw for Misgendering, internalized transphobia, and various mentions of various abuses and death eater shit.

It was over. Finally, over. Voldemort was dead.

Violet allowed herself a small smile as she watched the sunrise break. She had made her way to the stone bridge; Where Hagrid had carried her back to Hogwarts and where she had just snapped the Elder wand in half.

“So, no more ‘Master of death’, eh Harry?” Ron said from beside her.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe that children’s story, Ronald.” Hermione said from her other side.

Violet swallowed. It really was over. All of it; hopefully life would resume some normalcy soon. Although Hermione seeming more teasing than admonishing in her tone towards Ron now was a marked improvement.

“Of course, I do, how do you explain Harry’s cloak not being summonable?” Ron said, not noticing the minute quiver of discomfort in Violet as he unknowingly said the wrong name.

“There are spells that make things unsummonable, they used them on us during the lake task in the Triwizard tournament.” Hermione said. “It’s probably enchanted with something like that.”

“I’m going to go and have a sleep.” Violet cut in, stepping back from the edge of the bridge.

“Alright, mate.” Ron said. He gave her a wink that Hermione couldn’t see. Violet turned away and strode back over to the castle.

She pulled the invisibility cloak out of her jacket and used it to sneak through the entrance hall and through a door to the grand staircase.

It really was over. Voldemort was dead. She could go on doing… something.

She had felt a similar sort of trepidation before the third task of the Triwizard tournament. This feeling of a wave. The feeling then was of a wave at its crest, about to crash down. But now the wave was broken, the water beginning to calm. She would have a chance to find her feet.

Of course, behind the wave that was the final task of the Triwizard tournament was an even larger swell. Voldemort had returned then, and she had things to do. Things that took her mind off of everything else. Now there was nothing, what was left of the ministry would round up the stunned Death Eaters littered around the castle and ensure they were tried in the Wizengamot.

That was, if the Wizengamot was even still functional. She had recognised so many on Voldemort’s side from those who had cast votes against her during her trial before fifth year.

She shivered slightly as her thoughts passed over her anxiety about that trial. Tonks, Mad-Eye, and everyone else who she asked had assured her that she wouldn’t be questioned under a truth potion. The ministry knew it was a sham trial, and truth potion would only acquit her of any wrongdoing. That hadn’t stopped her from worrying. Worrying about whether they would ask her name. She hadn’t been Violet back then; but she hadn’t been Harry, she had known that at least.

She hadn’t told anyone. She just hadn’t had time to focus on anything like that. There was always something more to do, but now there wasn’t. Unless…

She had mentioned, in her fifth-year career advice interview with Professor McGonagall, that she had considered becoming an Auror. It was just an idea, really. But that was another endeavour, another thing that she would focus on, put herself to the side and work on. When she was an Auror, what next? There would be cases, and cases that lead to more cases. It wouldn’t end. There would always be something to focus on next.

She had been intending on starting to talk to people about her after the tournament had finished. But then Voldemort rose again, and the pain had increased as her body had been twisted in those three following years. Could she really bury herself in being an Auror? Or being anything except herself? Should she? Should she try to pretend she had never figured out that she wasn’t a boy named Harry? Could she forget what she had seen in the Mirror of Erised, six years ago? Could she stand not being Violet?

Violet. The name had taken root like its plant namesake. Over the course of her, Ron, and Hermione’s very long camping trip, she had had lots of time to think, and lots of time to read. She had pulled out her photo album regularly, the one Hagrid had given her after Voldemort had tried to steal the Philosopher’s stone. In one of the wedding photos was a group of various Aunts and Uncles of the happy couple. At the very edge of the frame was a woman. The description labelled her and her ‘+1’ as ‘Violet Evans’ and ‘Caroline Hodge’. She hoped her great aunt wouldn’t mind her going by the name as well. The name felt right, like home.

What the Weasleys would think was something she had often wondered about. Would they be accepting? Ambivalent, perhaps? Hopefully not hostile. She hadn’t really heard about anyone in their family who was different, let alone like her. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, she remembered Ron saying something about Molly Weasley having a second cousin who’s an accountant, but that they never talked about him. She shivered, would she just become someone they never talk about?

She arrived at the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room, hoping that the Death Eaters that had run the school for the past year hadn’t removed her bed in the seventh-year boy’s dormitory. The portrait opened with a small smile, allowing her access.

Letting everyone forget her, just allowing herself to fade into obscurity would probably be best for her. She walked up one of the stairways, practically feeling the four-poster slipping closer. She opened a door marked ‘Seventh Years’, and her heart stopped.

There were two beds; probably to be expected, since she, Ron, and Dean would be far from welcome due to their statuses during the reign of Voldemort. But her eyes had seen the initials on the end of one of the trunks. ‘LB’ it said. ‘LB’ for ‘Lavender Brown’. She was in the girl’s dormitories.

She staggered backwards, her initial joy at being accepted by the stairs quickly overshadowed by panic. What if someone saw her here?

She stepped back again. Her foot came down on the edge of the top step. She unbalanced, waved her arms wildly for a moment, and then fell.

Violet fell down the stairs, crashing down every few steps. Falling and falling. Down the stairs to the common room she went.

She kept on falling, not down stairs now, but as if the floor of the common room had vanished, or she had passed through it entirely.

Violet looked down, twisting her body to see darkness fly up to meet her.

There was something soft beneath her. Soft and ticklish. Violet turned over, feeling pleasantly drowsy. It was if she had been sleeping and not unconscious. The soft feeling pressed against her other cheek. Whatever she was lying on was pleasantly springy, it made for a nice mattress. She brought her arms up, stretching.

She breathed in, and out. Whatever she was lying on smelled strange. It reminded her of one of Dudley’s many birthday cakes that her aunt had forced her to make. In some of her more rebellious moments she had sneakily eaten some of the uncooked batter. Although this was a slightly different smell.

A soft breeze made her messy hair wave slightly. It tickled the back of her neck. She lifted her head slightly and shook it, the mass of unruly hair shaking violently.

That was weird. Last she checked she’d had rather short hair. She reached up a hand to it. It was much longer, but no less rebellious, with locks going every which way.

Violet finally opened her eyes, intending to investigate the changes in her hair, but that left her mind as she struggled to make sense of the place in which she found herself.

The soft substance she had been lying on was grass-like, but on closer inspection was revealed to be made up of tiny feathers in place of the normal blades. If that wasn’t strange enough, the grass was also orange. Not exactly orange, though; it flashed red and gold as it swayed slightly in the wind. She recognised it.

“Phoenix Feathers?” She said, then clapped her hands over her mouth. That wasn’t her voice. It was slightly higher, and less… masculine? She wasn’t really sure how to describe it. She lowered her hands.

“Hello?” She said experimentally. She smiled. There was no subtle shot of internal pain that usually accompanied her speech. She turned to lie on her back, and looked up at the sky, which was as blue as normal. “Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” She rattled off, enjoying the voice that emerged from her mouth. She branched off into whatever popped into her head. “Wand, Potions, Forest of Dean.”

Eventually she ran dry of things to say, but she still hadn’t said something specific. Something she had been avoiding, but still really wanted to hear. She gritted her teeth, and spoke.

“My name is Violet.”

It was as if something solid and unbreakable was melting inside her. She let out a small laugh.

Wait. If her voice had changed, and her hair had changed, then what else had changed? She sat up and looked down. Her heart leapt. She was wearing a dress. The sort of frilly dress that the women in her aunt’s television shows wore. It was black and yellow with short, puffy sleeves. The lower portion was cut in a zig-zag pattern to about knee length, beneath it was a pair of stripy black and yellow socks. Violet pressed her hands against the fabric. Had someone changed her into this? Or perhaps whatever magic had changed her had also given her these clothes?

“Why am I dressed as a bee?” She asked herself. she looked down to her feet, and saw she was wearing a pair of black, buckled shoes. Something glinted in the corner of her vision, and her eyes were drawn to a thin chain around her neck. In the middle of the chain was a trident shaped ornament, resting on her chest.

Her chest. Which existed in a convex shape. Violet’s heart leapt, she moved her hands around and felt that her body underneath these new clothes had also been altered. She smiled; everything was just as it should have been, just as she had wanted.

She sat there for a while, just letting herself get used to this exciting new form. But she soon realised that, although her face had changed, she wouldn’t be able to see it without some sort of mirror.

“Could I find a pool of water around here?” She asked herself, and stood up to look around better. The feathergrass flattened itself under her feet, but sprang back like she had never been there when she moved.

Violet looked around. She was on top of some sort of plateau, about five metres wide, with sides that sloped down steadily all around it. Surrounding the plateau on most sides were trees, but quite strange trees. They were made of smooth, dark brown wood; and were extremely densely packed, she doubted she could squeeze between some of them in her normal clothes, let alone this dress. Every few metres along the trunks were these strange little bumps, where the tree ballooned outwards and the smooth bark split into vines trying in vain to cover the inner part of the tree.

“Hand on.” She said. “Those trees look like the Elder Wand.” She looked up, hoping to see the tops of the trees, but they just seemed to continue into infinity.

“This place is kind of weird.” Violet concluded. “Where is here anyway?”

No one answered.

Violet looked back up at the sky. How did she even get here? She was falling or something? Yes, she was falling down the steps from the girls’ dormitories into the common room. She had just continued falling, then woken up here. She looked around the clearing.

“As weird as this place is, it’s also kind of nice.” She said. “And not just because I’m pretty sure it gave me this makeover.” She giggled. “I should have a look around. I’ll probably get hungry soon.”

Violet looked over to a particularly wide gap in the trees. It was so wide she thought it might have been a path, but then again, who would use such a path? There was no one here but her.

“I guess there’s only one way to go.” She said, and set off towards the path. The feathergrass was rather bouncy, and took a little getting used to. She nearly tripped over as she was slowly making her way down from the side of the plateau.

Violet wound her way through the small passage in the trees. The feathergrass grew sparser here, giving way to soft, loamy soil.

There was light drifting through the trees here. Violet ducked underneath one of the bulbs and emerged into another clearing. She had barely taken a step out of the shadows of the trees when she felt herself falling once again. Although this time, she found herself sliding rather than tumbling. She was sliding down the side of the hill on top of the feathergrass.

She crashed down to the bottom and skidded a way further. Violet picked herself up, and looked behind her at the back of her nice dress. It seemed perfectly clean. She looked up the hill.

“Aw, well.” She said. “I guess there’s no going back that way.”

Violet turned around and continued walking onwards. The feathergrass continued here, but it also became interspersed with patches of clover here and there. The clover was in bloom, and small, spherical, spiky, white flowers pushed up from the green here and there.

While walking, Violet further investigated her dress. She assumed it was hers, at least; Why else would she wake up in it? Why else would it fit her perfectly? Regardless, there were quite a few pockets built into it, she knew this was unusual. Not just where you would expect pockets to be, like at her sides, but also weird areas like along the spine, in the hem of the skirt, and even inside the front. They were all empty.

Larger flowers appeared as she walked. ‘Larger’ meaning a great deal larger than the small clover blossoms. Tall stems grew up from beneath the trees, and flopped over, following the stem back towards the ground. The reversed portion of the stem had two columns of blue flowers, turned downwards.

“Reminds me of Aconite.” Violet said, remembering the plant from potions.

She walked for a little longer, and must’ve not been paying proper attention to her surroundings, because before she knew it, she had stepped in a fast-flowing stream.

The icy water soaked through her yellow and black sock and she grimaced, quickly withdrawing it. As she did so the sock dried, water siphoned into oblivion, and it was left feeling pleasantly toasty.

“Nice,” Violet said. “But did that happen because of my socks or the water?” She kneeled down and experimentally dipped her hand into the water. As she removed it from the icy water, it too dried near instantly, but did not warm up. “A combination of the two, perhaps?”

She looked down, hoping to see what her face looked like now, but the water was flowing, drifting and writhing downstream, distorting most of the vision of her face.

“Perhaps if I follow it downstream, I can find a place to have a proper look at myself?” Violet asked herself, and walked off alongside the stream.

A little down the path there was a disturbance in the stream.

What looked like a triangular slab was sticking up underneath the water. It was causing quite a disturbance to the stream path, but since it in no way hindered the water, Violet figured it can’t be some sort of purposeful dam. She knelt by the side of the stream and put both hands into the water, pulling on the slab, which turned out to be rectangular.

The magic of the stream dried it out quickly, and she realised it was no ordinary slab of rock, but one of congealed paper. Now that it had dried out, she saw it was also a book; or rather, a manuscript, an unfinished book. The heading on the front page read

_An Uncyclopedic Guide to Wonderland._

_By Alice Liddell._

“Wonderland?” Violet read. “Is that what this place is called? It sounds like the name of a theme park.” nevertheless, a guide may be useful. She sat down, cross-legged beside the stream, and opened the first page.

_My Name is Alice Liddell._

Violet shivered, the last time she had seen that sort of phrase in a book, it was responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets.

_Wonderland, as far as I know, was created by my subconscious as a sanctuary-_

“I would offer recommendations to lay aside the notions that foetal tome imparts.” Said a stern voice from behind Violet. “It is rather past it’s use-by date.”

She let up a small scream at the unexpected sound, and jerked in her sitting position. So violent was the motion that she accidently tore off the first page of the manuscript, and caused the rest to slide off her legs and into the water where it took off afloat on the current.

Violet looked around, trying to find where the voice had come from, and her eyes finally locked upon the source.

It was an owl, a large but deathly thin black owl with white speckles on its wings. A white band outlined its heart-shaped face, in the middle of which amber eyes stared back at her.

“Who are you?” violet asked.

The owl’s head tilted to the side slightly, then turned upside down entirely.

“Address my personage by the name of Stowey Owl.” It said, pronouncing the name like ‘Snowy’ except with a T instead of an N.

“Oh, hello there, Stowey Owl.” She said. She looked downriver to where the book was floating away. “Do you mean it’s not an accurate book?”

“Precisely.” It hooted.

“So, is this place not called Wonderland?”

“It is known by the moniker.”

“Oh, okay.” She said. “Is it a real place? Or is…” She was about to ask if this was happening in her head, but given that this was the second time in twelve hours that she had encountered such a strange place, she cut herself off.

“Mayhap.” Stowey Owl said. “Mayhap not.”

“I was just wondering, because the book said it was created by someone’s subconscious.” She said.

“As I informed you, Wonderland is not made from someone’s subconscious musings.”

Violet stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“If there’s nothing else to say, I was following the stream before.” Violet said. “Excuse me.” She turned to leave.

“Oh, I would not go to the effort of trying to find its ending.”

“Oh?” Violet asked, turning back to face the strange bird. “Is it endless?”

“No, merely that you will trip over shortly.”

“What?” Violet asked, and when the owl didn’t respond she rolled her eyes and turned.

As she turned, she slipped on a wet patch of mud and fell back to the earth. She rolled down the side of the small bank and into the stream. Instead of the shallow water, she found herself falling once again through untold depths.

When Violet woke, she knew exactly where she was. She knew that the soft something beneath her was the linen in the hospital wing. Her eyes flicked open and she saw the busy room. Ron, Hermione, and several others were clustered around her bed.

“Harry, mate? Are you okay?” Ron asked.

“Uh? I don’t know.” She said, a little startled and very heartbroken to find her voice back to its normal timbre. For a second there, that dream she had seemed so real. Wonderland had seemed so real. She had been right, for a little while.

“I found you passed out in the common room.” Hermione said neutrally. “Can you remember what happened?”

“I- I think I tripped and fell down the stairs.” She said, inwardly grimacing at her voice. “But I’m fine now.” She looked around. “How long was I out?”

“It’s been about ten minutes since I found you.” Hermione said. “And you left the bridge about an hour ago.” Violet’s heart sank, she had felt at least two hours pass in Wonderland. There went her last hope that it wasn’t a dream.

“You should probably be eating some breakfast soon, dear.” Mrs Weasley said, and bustled off. Her place in the circle around Violet’s bed was taken by Madam Pomfrey.

“You’re awake? Good.” She said curtly. “I would appreciate if you would be a little more careful, especially after last night. We only have so many beds.”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey.” Violet said quietly, looking away.

The group around Violet’s bed diminished until she left after an hour. Violet slid out from under the covers, only to hear a strange crinkling sound. She turned around to look for the source and saw there was a crumpled piece of paper; paper, not parchment. She smoothed it out as Ron and Hermione looked over her shoulder at it.

“What on earth does that mean?” Hermione asked.

On the paper was some words.

_An Uncyclopedic Guide to Wonderland._

_By Alice Liddell._

It had been real. Violet had been holding this as she tumbled into the river, it must have come with her. She smiled slightly.

“I have no idea.” She lied.


	2. The Factory

Just a few weeks later and Violet had moved in to Grimmauld Place. Luckily there was very little cleaning left to do. It appeared that the Death Eater that they had accidently let in after their mission into the ministry seemed to have cleaned out the dark artefacts himself. She spent most of the following weeks going tidying in her own way. It kept her mind busy from the many funerals that had been held since the battle of Hogwarts. They were only halfway through so far.

Violet stayed out of the reconstruction of the Ministry and the Death Eater trials as best she could. But there were several times when she, or rather when Harry, was called upon to give testimony. Hermione was there as much as she could be. Although she was preparing to return for her missed seventh year at Hogwarts, she also seemed determined to move into law and politics directly after.

The trial of the Malfoys was one such occasion when she was called upon. She testified about how he had chosen not to give them away when they were taken to Malfoy Manor around Easter. Violet also spoke about how Narcissa Malfoy had lied to Voldemort about her death, which ultimately allowed her to take down the Dark Lord. The court ruled in Narcissa’s favour, but decided that that was not pertinent to Draco. After what Violet heard from witnesses and victims of what he had done during the Hogwarts year, she sorely regretted agreeing to testify in his favour.

Which is how she found herself throwing up the Ministry-provided lunch in a toilet cubicle after Draco was sentenced to more than a decade in prison. She awkwardly tried to keep her hair up, out of the path of the sick. It wasn’t so long yet to catch it on the way down, but the splash-back was a possibility. She tried not to think of the list of crimes, in the form of a record of punishments meted out by the head boy, the previous year.

Her mind drifted back to a year ago, when she had confronted him in that bathroom in Hogwarts. How Draco still bore the scars from her reckless spell. She swallowed; the stench of vomit heavy in her nose. How could she have been so stupid to think that ‘For Enemies’ had meant someone like that and not… well, an Enemy?

She slammed a fist down onto the tile floor beside her. Why hadn’t she taken Hermione’s advice about the book? It was so obvious now; it made her sick. She had to have known on some level. Hadn’t she? She had used that spell, felt the magic flow through her, and seen the blood spray from the young man who was now being led away to a temporary prison.

She hit the floor again.

“Harry?” She heard Ron shout from outside the bathroom.

“I’m here, come in.” She said into the porcelain bowl. She coughed, and a bit of something was propelled into the toilet. The door opened behind her.

“Merlin, Harry…” Ron said. Violet let a grimace at the name sneak through. He entered the open cubicle behind her and kneeled down. One of his hands took her hair. “Here, let me.”

“Thanks.” She croaked, removing her own hand and placing it on the toilet rim.

Violet stared down at the chunks, trying to get back the energy to move again. She gathered the saliva in her mouth and spat the remnants into the bowl. She could still smell it in her nostrils. She pulled out a tissue and blew it a few times. It still smelt fowl, but it wasn’t as bad as it was. She wiped around her mouth and dropped the paper into the toilet.

“I think I’ll be fine for now.” She said, waving Ron off and preparing to stand up again. He stepped back and Violet got to her feet and flushed the refuse away.

“I’ll go get you some water.” He said, and ducked out of the bathroom, letting the door shut behind him.

Violet moved over to the taps and began washing off her hands. She looked up into the mirror. There was the familiar malcontent with her appearance, but she looked bad even by her standards. She tore her eyes away before she could single out any of the details.

She couldn’t be out of here soon enough.

Violet turned, opened the bathroom door, and stepped through.

Her foot landed on cobblestones, which was rather distinct from the polished tile of the outside of the Ministry bathroom where she had just been.

Violet looked down and saw the shiny, buckled shoes underneath her yellow and black dress.

She was back in Wonderland. Violet grinned.

Although this place seemed rather distinct from the Wonderland that she had visited before. Instead of grass made of phoenix feathers, now she stood on loose cobblestones. Green grass was sprouting up between them. A mud-filled stream flowed slowly down the gutters.

There were buildings on either side of her, like the ones in Diagon Alley, but distinctly Muggle. They looked to be more than a hundred years old and not just because of the older architecture. There were also the huge mushrooms growing out of and around them. Some of them were big enough that she could use them as a mattress.

“What odd taste in decoration.” Violet said to herself. She had seen odder things here before, if this was Wonderland, than people who appreciated fungal flourishes. Although once again, she wasn’t sure where exactly the people may be. This street was as deserted as the glade.

“Stowey Owl?” She called out.

She waited a few seconds.

“I guess it’s not here.” She said.

“Who’s not here?” A voice said. Violet turned, and there on the crossbar of a lamppost was Stowey Owl.

“You were.”

“’You were’ what?” The owl asked.

“You weren’t here, I was seeing if I could find you.”

“And what will you do now you have found the one you seek?”

“I was going to ask if I’m back in Wonderland again.” Violet said. “I thought I might be because…” She paused. “Because I’m wearing this dress, and this place looks rather strange.”

“Most peculiar, I thought you were wearing that dress before you came to Wonderland again.” Stowey Owl said. “Mayhap I was mistaken about when you came here, but I shall confirm that this is Wonderland.”

“Oh,” She said, not really sure what to ask next. “Do you know why I’m here? or why I’m here again?”

“The knowledge resides not on my personage.” The owl said, and spread its tattered wings wide, as if it were a magician showing there was nothing up their sleeves. “Finding the Uncyclopedia may help you.”

“I thought you said it was out of date?” Violet said.

“Would you say Cheese is useless, just because it no longer functions as milk?” the owl said.

“What?” Violet asked blankly.

“Well, I shall take my leave of you; as that is what I will do soon.”

“You’re not making much sense.” Violet said, rather annoyed, as the owl pushed off on the lamppost. The crossbar it stood on span, obscuring the bird behind the lamp. It continued to rotate, and the once-occupied side of the bar swung back to the front once more, sans Stowey Owl.

“Well that’s hardly useful, is it?” She said, and turned back to the street.

Stowey Owl had recommended that her answers could be found within the Uncyclopedia. She looked around. It was hardly useful staying here so she needed to find a way to go. The alleyways between buildings were overgrown with fungus, and without anything to cut through, were probably impassable.

She headed over to one of the doors to the houses. She knocked and waited.

No one came to the door, so she tried the doorknob. The door swung open; Violet looked through. Through the door was not a house, as she had thought from the outside, but another street. Another street exactly like the one she was on, right down to the young woman looking through a door. She titled her head, and the double copied her.

“Hello?” She called, and heard a voice from behind here call it from behind her at the same time. She raised her hand; the double did that too. She turned around, and a double held a door open on the far side of the street, and the other side of the frame. It was also turned around looking back.

“Huh.” She said, and shut the door. “Some sort of freaky circle.”

She stepped away from the door.

“Only one thing left now, the road.” Violet said. She looked over at the dark mud flowing in the gutters. “Now all I need to decide is upstream or downstream.”

She turned left, the upstream direction, and the street curved away. She turned right, and saw it steadily curved away too.

“Whichever way should I go?” Violet asked the street. She looked back to the lamppost, almost hoping to see Stowey Owl there again, but it was just the crossbar. “Oh!” she looked at the crossbar, it was pointing vaguely downstream. “Downstream it is!”

Violet set off walking down the side of the street. She looked around as she walked, keeping an eye out for anything different.

Perhaps she should have been a bit more focussed on where she was walking, because she was only barely able to catch herself before she stepped into the gutter of a side street. The mud flowed from there into the street she was following. Violet looked up the side street, it seemed like more of the same from where she had come.

“Let’s hope something like that doesn’t happen again.” Violet said to herself, and stepped over the mudslide into the middle of the road. She continued walking.

She had been walking for perhaps ten more minutes when she noticed that the mud sliding in the gutters seemed rather odd. It surely hadn’t been that bumpy before, had it? It was like someone had managed to hide a whole bunch of slightly deflated rugby balls in the flow.

Violet looked around and found a particularly large bump. She knelt down next to it and poked it. The bump instantly lost its shape and smoothed over, like it was just mud.

“How peculiar.” She said, and kept on walking.

It was a short time later that she came across something else interesting. A pile of mud in the middle of the road. It was much taller than a pile of mud should be. Rather round too. As she looked on, she saw it forming into several shapes. An egg-like body, thick stumpy legs, short arms, and a round head.

The sections became more and more distinct, but still clearly mud, and then the little mud creature opened its eye. A single eye, electric blue and strangely human, in the middle of its forehead. It sat up and looked at her.

“Hello.” Violet said.

A gurgling sound came from inside of the creature, and it attempted to raise its arms. The arms, however, lost whatever solidity they had and fell to the ground, splatting before they were re-absorbed into the body.

“Aww.” Violet said. The thing was cute in a strange way. Was this perhaps what Hagrid meant when he cooed over creatures like dragons? The arms slowly began to regrow from the body of the creature.

The creature stood up on its thick legs, mud continuously sliding down its body.

“Is it difficult; staying like that?” She asked. The thing nodded, stepped forward, and collapsed into a pile yet again. “Oh no! I’m sorry.”

Violet looked around as it began slowly reforming. Over on the side of the road she saw just what she needed. She walked over and retrieved, from one of the mushrooms growing between the buildings, a makeshift bucket made out of the conical cap of a mushroom. She put it on the ground next to the creature and it flopped into the fungi. It rolled around inside for a few seconds, then just the head emerged from the mud, blue eye and all.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” She asked. The creature nodded. “Do you have a name?” It shook its head. “Would you like me to give you one?” It nodded vigorously. “I used to know someone with an eye just like yours, how about Moody?”

Moody nodded and gurgled again. Violet smiled.

“I don’t suppose you would know anything about something called An Uncyclopedic Guide to Wonderland, would you?” she asked. Moody tilted its head. “I didn’t think so.” She giggled. “Is there anyone else around here?”

Moody’s eye widened and it nodded. It raised an arm from the mud inside the cap and pointed her downstream.

“Just the way I was going, would you be able to take me there, Moody?” Violet requested. It nodded again and Violet wrapped her arms around the cap to keep it safe. She then set off again, with someone quite a bit friendlier than Stowey Owl to accompany her.

In the distance she noted some smoke rising from a long chimney.

“Is that where we’re heading?” She asked Moody. It gurgled and bubbled, and then nodded. “You seem to be pretty excited about it.”

“Yeah.” Came a voice from Moody. Violet looked down in surprise.

“Moody! You spoke!” She said excitedly.

“Yeah.” Moody said again, before collapsing back into a pile of mud.

“Is it because we’re getting closer to wherever we’re going?” She asked. Moody’s eye floated to the top of the makeshift bucket. “We should hurry up then.”

Violet increased her pace and soon she arrived at the end of the road. A large, factory-like building, stood with its wooden double doors able to open directly onto the road itself. The mudslides entered the factory through two grates in the wall.

“Shall we take a look inside?” She asked Moody. It reformed quickly into its more humanoid shape.

“Let’s go.” It said, and Violet ventured forth. Holding the mushroom cap in one arm, she pushed open one of the doors.

The corridor she entered was almost blinding. Light reflected every which way. Off walls and off the floor; all of which were made of pure white stone. It was lit by blue torches hanging from the walls.

Violet walked forwards towards a door set into the other end of the hallway. She pushed it open as well.

She emerged on top of a staircase in a dark room. By the look of the walls curving away from her it might be a vague circle. The walls here were marble. White stone with veins of grey and brown running through it. The stairs to her left and right followed the curvature of the walls down to a floor.

Violet took a few steps forward and looked over the railing. Below her was a large open tank of mud. Two streams entered it.

“So that’s where the street’s mud is flowing to.” She said, careful not to lose hold of Moody’s bucket.

There was a noise in the darkness.

Then the lights flicked on.

In the middle of the room was a gigantic humanoid torso, standing upright on his waist. His skin was deathly pale, and clad in wizards’ robes that were shorn off so that they never even brushed the floor. Violet looked at the face and cringed, it had eyes, a nose, ears, and a mouth; but they were all too small compared to the size of the face itself. The hair on his head was silvery-blond and slicked back.

In the middle of the room, before the torso, was a fire pit. Wood was sprinkled in between what looked like gas nozzles.

“Who is it?” The torso said, in a rather posh voice. Violet gathered her courage and spoke.

“My name is Violet; I’m looking for an Uncyclopedia.” She said.

“And what have you got there, Violet who is looking for an Uncyclopedia?” He said, leaning close and eyes wide, staring down at Moody.

Moody gurgled. It was rather different than other happy gurgles, this was almost fearful.

One of the Torso’s hands appeared next to his face and plucked the makeshift bucket from Violet arms.

“It’s this little mud creature I found out on the street.” She said. “It’s not doing anything to hurt anyone.”

“Oh, of course not.” The Torso said and upended the mushroom cap above the mud tank.

“Moody!” Violet cried out, but the little creature had already vanished beneath the roiling mud in the tank. She looked up at the Torso. “Why did you do that?”

“Mud needs to be dried before it can be harvested from.” He said, leaning back. The mushroom cap was tossed away and a match replaced it, taken from a toolbelt laid on the floor around the Torso. He lit it on the side of the tank and started up the firepit. “Thank you for bringing it to me, they can become troublesome to retrieve if they go too far from the drains.”

Violet could only watch in horror as the Torso filled a metal tray with mud from the tank. Electric blue eyes rolled around as the slop began to settle. He set it on the firepit and it began to bubble, thickening as the water started to boil off.

Far worse than that was the sounds coming from the mud creatures themselves. Violet blocked them out as best she could, but the wailing was loud.

“Stop it!” She yelled at the Torso. “Can’t you hear they’re in pain?”

“I expect so.” He said.

“Why are you doing this?” She said, gobsmacked.

“Are you going to keep yapping there, girly?” the Torso asked.

Violet looked around, she had to stop this. Somehow. She saw the banister of the stairs beside her and ran over, jumping at the last second so she slid down on the polished white marble. She looked down at the firepit, the gas was being fed in by a hose that went into the wall. Set into the pipe was a large tap.

“There.” She whispered and jumped off the banister and onto the pipe. She put her arms out to steady herself and balanced her way across to the tap. It was coated with rubber and quite easy to grip, but didn’t move a lick.

“Away from there, little insect.” The Torso said, and brushed his hand over the tap. Violet ducked and the hand passed over her head. The hand swooped in from the other side and her eyes widened. Seeing nowhere else to go, she dived off the pipe and onto the floor.

“Here we are” The Torso said, and removed the tray of dried mud from the fire. He placed it over on the floor next to Violet. The heat radiated off it in great waves and she backed up right to the wall to avoid it where she could.

The Torso removed a hammer and chisel from the belt, and began cracking the slab of dry mud. He took a pair of tweezers, and steadily removed one of the round electric blue eyes from the slab.

“That’s come out nicely.” He said and moved the eye over to the marble wall. As soon as it touched, the white of the eye vanished leaving a conical blue gem that had previously been the iris. He picked it up and tossed it in a hole in the floor. Violet looked at the wall, one of the veins of grey lightened steadily to white.

“This whole place is made of eyes?” She screamed, looking up at the Torso, anger coursing through her.

“Of course, it is, the pigment is quite beautiful; don’t you think?”

“Of course not!” She yelled. “How many of these creatures have you killed and consumed just for this?”

“Why ever would I know that?” He said. “I’ve not bothered to keep count.”

She looked over to the Torso’s toolbelt, there might be something there that could help. She needed to stop whatever this Torso is.

The tray shuddered as he began to break it apart more, sometimes discarding broken eyes along with the unused irises into the garbage chute.

Violet began edging her way around the hot tray, keeping an eye on the Torso. He didn’t seem to be paying much attention to her.

Finally, she reached the toolbelt and she saw something interesting.

“Is that a broom?” She asked herself quietly. It was indeed, but not just any broom. It was carved in the shape of a stylised Harpy, wings outstretched in front of her to form the handle. ‘Harpy’s Headwind’ was inlaid in gold on the handle. She removed it from the pocket in the toolbelt.

“You are being most rude.” The Torso said from above her. She looked up. “I have been nothing but accommodating but you have sought to undermine me at every turn.” He picked up the Harpy and shook it, but Violet held on tight. “Very well, if you want the damn brush so bad, you can have it, right into the trash.” The hand moved over the hole in the floor and dropped both Violet and the broom.


	3. Down the garbage chute

Violet landed hard on a large hill of Sapphires and eyeballs. The impact shifted them quite a bit, enough that just as she was beginning to get her bearings she was falling yet again.

Violet looked down as she slid on top of the wave of gems. She couldn’t see the floor. Not because the hill was especially big, but because of the shear amount of sapphires in the room. She reached the bottom of the hill and stopped.

Violet looked up, but stopped moving when she felt the gems underneath her shift. The gems had supported her weight thus far, but she wasn’t willing to test that when being crushed underneath them was looking likely if she was wrong.

“How pitiful.” A voice, rather like Stowey Owl’s, came from beside her. Violet twisted her head to look as far as she felt the gems would allow. It was a cat. A horribly thin cat with black and grey stripes and a wide grin that went from ear to ear.

“Excuse me?” She asked.

“So, you are the source of all this commotion?” The cat said.

“I guess so?” Violet said. “Sorry, I just got thrown down a garbage chute.”

“And you have a broom with you that you haven’t thought to use.” The cat said. “As I said, pitiful.”

“Oh!” Violet said, realising she was still holding the Harpy. She willed it skyward with her holding onto the handle. Like any other magical broom, it rose on her command. She grabbed it with the other hand as well and swung herself over it. Violet then realised one of the disadvantages of dresses. It was very uncomfortable so she struggled a bit to switch to side-saddle but eventually managed it.

“Honestly Cheshire, sometimes I wonder why I bring you anywhere.” Said another voice. Violet swung her broom around to look at the source, anything was better than looking at the cat. It was a girl about her age, with pale skin and long black hair, a blue dress instead of yellow, who was just standing in mid-air.

“Ah?” Violet croaked. The girl was rather pretty, in a creepy sort of way. “You’re standing in mid-air.”

“And you’re riding a broomstick.” She said, then she hiccupped and shrank to a fraction of her size. Suddenly she was back to normal. “I can shrink, it lets me see platforms where you least expect them. If you look carefully you can see them too.”

Violet flew up to the girl, and truly she could see some faint purple flecks in an extremely rough shape resembling a square underneath where she was standing.

“Huh, I see.” Violet said. Then she realised she must be being very rude. “Sorry, my name’s H- Violet.”

“Alice.” She said.

“Alice? As in Alice Liddell?” Violet asked.

“Yes, that’s my name.” Alice said.

“You wrote the… what was it called? The Uncyclopedia.” Violet asked.

“Oh yes, how long ago was that, Cheshire?” Alice looked over to the cat, but he was gone. “Honestly, I half wish he had vanished permanently sometimes.” She turned back to Violet. “I wrote it ages ago, but things have been changing in Wonderland for a few years so I threw it out.”

“Changing?”

“Incorporating new elements.” She said. “Like this place, a glade of most peculiar grass, a graveyard, many things. Most likely because of you.”

“Of course!” Violet said. “You wrote in the book that Wonderland was all based on your subconscious. Wait, but then why-? Oh, Stowey Owl said it wasn’t ‘SomeONE’s’.”

“You know, a few weeks ago I was visited by an owl bearing that same name.” She said. “It told me it was a new guide.”

“Guide?” Violet asked.

“Like Cheshire is for me.” Alice explained. “Then a few hours later this place sprang into existence and we came looking for you.”

“For me?” Violet asked.

“Like I said, your appearance has changed Wonderland. Which was actually quite refreshing, to be honest.” Alice said. “It was getting terribly dull.”

“Dull?” Violet said incredulously.

“Boring, tread, seen too much.”

“No, I know that, but I couldn’t imagine a place like Wonderland ever being dull.”

“After a hundred odd years you’d get bored too.” Alice said.

“You’re over a hundred years old?”

“Correct, but it doesn’t mean much, I haven’t grown any older, and apparently I’m just as mature as when I was trapped here.” Alice said.

“Like Peter Pan?” Violet asked. Then she took in the statement fully. “Wait, trapped here?”

“Who? Never mind.” Alice said. “Yes, trapped here; I managed to save this world from destruction and my reward was to live here, forever.”

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Its fine, like I said, it hasn’t affected me much. But I’m still wondering why you’re at the bottom of this garbage chute?” Alice asked.

“Oh, yes.” She said. “There’s this huge legless torso up there torturing these little mud creatures, I tried to stop him and he threw me out.”

“That doesn’t seem at all healthy.” Alice said. “Shall we go up and ‘take care’ of him?”

“I think that’s a good idea, Alice.” She said, smiling. She shifted up the handle of the Harpy slightly and patted the broom. “Need a lift?”

“Why thank you.” Alice said, sitting down on the broom and wrapping her arms around Violet’s waist. Violet did her best to disguise her sharp intake of breath at the touch. She was very sure she failed. She angled the broom towards the exit of the garbage chute and set off.

“You smell like flowers, you know?” Alice said.

“Ha, that’s appropriate, when I first came to Wonderland and found myself in this dress I did wonder if someone was trying to pass me off as a large bee.”

“I must say they’ve done an admirable job.” Alice said.

They reached the pipe. Violet dodged as a cracked eye fell down above them. The Harpy was nowhere near as fast as her Firebolt, nor even her old Nimbus 2000, but it had excellent handling. Unlike her former brooms it wasn’t like a race car, it didn’t go forward then turn to follow a new path, more like it could move any which direction she wished of it. It was rather convenient for side-saddle riding.

The pair of them eventually reached the top of the pipe and emerged into the Torso’s room. He had his back to them at the moment and was still digging out the eyes from the large slab.

“You there!” Alice shouted over. The Torso turned to face them as they hovered away from the rubbish chute. “As ruler of this land I command you to stop your torturous enterprise.”

“No.” The Torso said, and turned back to his work.

“The nerve of some people.” Alice said, then asked Violet. “Can you take us down to near that tray?” Violet nodded and flew down directly into the Torso’s field of vision.

“I said: I command you as ruler of this land.” She said again.

“I heard what you said, but you are no ruler anymore.” He said.

“Oh.” Alice’s eyes widened then narrowed. “Well I guess we’ll just have to do this the hard way.” From somewhere inside the folds of her dress she drew a knife. About two feet long with intricate floral carvings that flowed along the blade until it stopped in a wicked point.

Alice leapt from the broom and onto the Torso’s hand that was holding the tray. Violet was rather shocked, but if it was to be a battle, so be it. She began moving up towards the statue’s head when she realised, she had no weapons. Meanwhile, Alice was running up the arm.

“Get off me, you gnat.” The Torso yelled, waving his arms ineffectually slowly. Alice dodged them easily and grabbed a hold of a long string of hair. She swung around to the back of the Torso’s neck and presumably drove the knife into the back of his neck.

Violet looked around frantically for some sort of weapon to help Alice. The toolbelt was no help this time, there was nothing by the fire-pit.

Alice cried out in pain as the Torso finally grabbed her.

“Alice! No!” Violet yelled and flew right up to the Torso’s face. She pulled back a fist and planted it in the Torso’s eye.

“Aaargh.” It yelled in pain this time.

“You let her go!” Violet commanded. The Torso quivered, but did not let go. Alice seemed to notice too, because she gasped. She continued pounding the eye until it was a bloody pulp, the Torso clearly in too much pain to respond with action. A strange hissing filled the air.

“Violet, get clear!” Alice yelled. Violet pulled back from the face in front of her just in time for a projectile to slam into it. The attack splashed in many directions, splattering blood and watery liquid across the floor.

She looked over to the hand holding Alice. It was slackening, but unfortunately it was holding her right above the firepit.

Violet dived. Alice pulled herself from the hand and jumped. They grabbed each other as the hand fell into the firepit below, throwing up sparks and extinguishing the fire. Violet steered the Harpy over to near the Torso’s face lay.

It was a rather disgusting sight; burns surrounded the pulverised eye. Blood and water seeped across the floor.

“I must say, thank you for the distraction, and the save.” Alice said, situating herself more comfortable on the Harpy next to Violet.

“Thanks…” Violet said. “What was that thing that hit it?”

“Tea.” She said simply, and pulled out a large brass teapot, as intricately designed as the knife. “From my Teapot Cannon.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be more help.” Violet said.

“But you were.” Alice said. “Let’s go for a walk, and I’ll see if I can explain.”

Violet landed on the top of the staircase and they dismounted. The Harpy’s Headwind disappeared.

“Oh, it’s gone.” Violet said, a little surprised.

“Don’t worry, things don’t take up much space in Wonderland unless they wish to.” Alice said. “You can just will it back when you need it, like me and my weapons.”

“Oh, good.” Violet said, she was just about to turn and leave with Alice when she remembered. She peered over the railing at the tank holding the Mud Creatures. The mud was beginning to roil like it had in the gutters. She smiled as one emerged from the others and hopped over the side, slid down, and opened the tap, allowing the rest of them to slide out along the marble floor.

“Aren’t they adorable!” Alice said from where she stood beside Violet.

“Yeah.” Violet smiled. She noticed one of the Mud Creatures separate from the others and form. It looked up and waved. Violet waved back.

Alice tilted her head and looked at Violet.

“Shall we go now?” She asked.

“I think we shall.” Violet said, then she turned and followed Alice out of the factory.

“Oh my, this place looks like the old Londerland.” Alice said as they emerged into the city with the mushrooms.

“Londerland?”

“Well, when I was trapped here, I appeared to be back in London, but things became stranger as I ventured further.” She explained. “So that’s what I named the region.”

“You’re from London?” Violet asked.

“Yes.”

“So am I.” Violet said.

“Oh really?” Alice said. “Has it changed much since the eighteen-forties?”

“Err, yes. It’s Nineteen ninety-eight.”

“That long has passed?” She asked rhetorically. “Wow. Have they finally finished London Bridge?”

“Yeah, they finished it.” Violet said. “I think they’re refurbishing Big Ben at the moment.”

“Big Ben?” She asked. “Must have been after me, what is it?”

“It’s a big clocktower in the middle of London.”

“How novel.” She said, smiling at Violet.

Violet’s gaze flicked around awkwardly.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” She asked.

“Ah, well, do you remember how Wonderland is now being influenced by your subconscious?” Alice asked. Violet nodded. “Over the years, various parts of my Wonderland have been rather… rebellious, and I’ve had to bring them in line. In doing so I managed to declare myself ruler of most of Wonderland. But that thing back there, not only did I have no knowledge of him, but he decidedly did not follow my directions.”

“You can control people in wonderland?” Violet asked.

“More like they respect me as a peacekeeper, and someone who wants this place to stay habitable for them.” she said. “But when you ordered him, he sort of stopped, just for a moment. I think, as someone new from the real world, you’ve inherited some of my authority. But in doing so I’ve lost some, meaning that neither of us necessarily have enough to show creeps like him who’s in charge here.” She smiled. “At least, without getting our hands dirty.”

“I’m sorry.” Violet said.

“Don’t be, like I said, everything was getting boring.” She said. “Including the company.”

Violet smiled back. Unfortunately, this was when she stepped forwards into a doorway that appeared suddenly in the middle of the street. A force began to pull her further and further from the doorway. The door behind her swung closed. Alice grabbed it at the last second, but It was still closing and it wouldn’t stay open for long.

“Alice!” Violet yelled as she drifted further and further away from the door.

“Violet! Don’t worry! You’ll find me n-” She yelled, but she was cut off by the door slamming shut.

“Harry?” She heard Ron ask.

“A-? Ron?” She asked dimly from the floor.

“Are you alright, mate?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” She said. “I must have blacked out.” Her mind flashed back to the adventure in Wonderland with the Torso, the Mud Creatures, and Alice.

“Let’s get you home.” Ron said, and pulled her up over his shoulder.

“Thanks.” Violet allowed her to be led through the crowd to first an elevator, and then an apparition point in the atrium.

“Here we go.” Ron said as they appeared in the foyer of Grimmauld place. Violet managed to walk over into the kitchen and collapse in a chair. Her body felt like it had just been torn apart and put back together, like she had done heavy exercise that morning and was just beginning to feel her muscles knitting back together.

Ron sat down beside her.

“What happened?” She asked.

“Well, you just came out of the bathroom and just like, went blank, I guess.”

“Oh. That’s weird.”

“Yeah. You fell down and I wasn’t sure what exactly what was happening, but then you woke up.”

“How long was I out?” She asked.

“Just a few seconds.” Ron said. He paused for a moment. “I- Harry? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Yeah.” Violet lied.

“Good, cos I’m worried about you, mate.”

She chose to ignore this. Instead looking down at the table.

“Hermione was going to the department of magical creatures, wasn’t she?” Violet finally asked. “After the trial.”

“Yeah, another report on centaur psychology.” Ron said.

There was more silence after that, a full five minutes that felt like an hour.

Violet’s mind was stuck in a loop. She finally extracted a loose end and managed to feed it into a sentence.

“Do you think I did the right thing?” She asked. “Testifying for Malfoy?” Ron grimaced.

“Look, from what Hermione told me over lunch, it basically didn’t matter.” He said. “Everything else we heard just that morning was far worse than any good his mother did for you.”

“I know, Ron.” She said. “It’s just… he only got ten years in prison for all that stuff. I can’t help but feel he might have gotten more if I hadn’t testified.”

“Harry James Potter.” He said, grabbing her shoulder and, with the name, plunging a knife into her heart. “You did all you could, because you thought it was the right thing; just like you’ve always done. You shouldn’t be ashamed of that.” The words were _supposed_ to be comforting, she knew that much.

Violet left the house less after the trial of Draco Malfoy. Since it was just her in Grimmauld place, she didn’t need to impress anyone and most days ended up staying in her bedroom.

She wasn’t idle though, she had been scouring the remainder of the Black Library for reference to Wonderland, dreams, and of course: Alice Liddell. As could be predicted, the search came up empty on the names. She didn’t have much luck with ‘Dreams’ either, but something was better than nothing. She had even gone to a muggle library down the street and looked at the section there on dreams and psychology.

Violet bought a journal and used it to take notes. The title page of Alice’s Uncyclopedia manuscript folded inside a pocket in the front cover. Muggle and wizarding books generally agreed that the hallucinations in dreams where a reflection of the subconscious, just like Wonderland was a combined reflection of her and Alice’s.

She sometimes wondered about this… connection of sorts that she had with Alice through Wonderland. It was a little daunting. But since her last connection anything like this was with the most powerful dark wizard in the last 50 years that trepidation was hardly surprising.

Violet was a little nervous at going back to Wonderland, as Alice implied that she would. She could feel things there; did that also mean she could be hurt? And if she could be hurt, what happened if she died there? Would she die in the real world? Her body in Wonderland was completely different from the horrible thing she was in control of in the real world.

The difference between her physical makeup in Wonderland and the real world was also rather concerning. She wasn’t sure if she and Alice counted as friends, but if she found out about her…

No. She shut down those thoughts.

Although, that could be an interesting heading for her research, now that she actually had time and a library to do so. Violet began looking into it. The wizarding tomes provided next to nothing about psychology. Although wizards were rather adept at healing of the body, it seemed maladies of the mind were beneath them. The best they seemed to come up with was just observation.

Violet turned away from these books with a sigh, grimacing slightly at how uncompassionate they had been. She was also fairly certain that this ‘girl in a boy’s body’ thing she had, wasn’t what she had read about in those books.

History books were far more helpful, and more entertaining. She was slightly surprised at how negatively the books in the Black Library described the Dark Lady Morgana Le Fey, given that she had been a Dark Lady and this was a traditionally ‘Dark’ household. But her eyes zeroed in on one particular passage that described her as a “Prince-born Lady”. Exactly what that meant, Violet couldn’t be sure, but it comforted her to think that such a powerful and clever (Scheming, according to the book) witch may have been like her.

She couldn’t research the topic for long stretches of time like she did for researching Wonderland, as it brought with it heavy feelings.


	4. The Tea Party

The months rolled around and time began nearing to the end of July. Her birthday was soon approaching. Mrs Weasley had offered to organise a party and she had gratefully accepted. In between her research and lower episodes, Violet hadn’t managed to clean Grimmauld place much, and it had begun to get steadily dirtier. She didn’t really want to entertain there.

Really, celebrating her birthday was unappealing for many reasons. It just felt wrong to throw a party so soon after so many people had died. Fred, Lupin, Tonks, the list went on and on. They should have been there. Then there was the reminder, another year had passed and she hadn’t done anything about herself. She hadn’t told anyone. She didn’t think it was lying, exactly.

She cleared her mind and disaparated to the Burrow. She entered the already full party and was greeted with shouts of greeting and happy birthday. She greeted them sheepishly and accepted a bottle of butterbeer from Mr Weasley.

“How are you going, Harry?” Hagrid asked once she got settled.

“Fine.” She said.

“Decided whether you’re coming back to Hogwarts this year yet?” he said. “The repairs are going great, and I’ve got some real interesting creatures if you wanted to have a looksie.”

“Not yet.” She lied, internally relieved that she would not be able to duck down to Hagrid’s hut and see whatever these ‘interesting creatures’ were. Luckily at that point Hermione picked up the conversation to interrogate Hagrid about whether the creatures were legal.

She glanced up to see two people approaching her, Ron holding an Auror Office brochure advertising fast-tracked positions to those who had survived the battle of Hogwarts, and Andromeda Tonks with a squirming green haired baby in her arms.

“Hi Andromeda.” She said, standing up to meet her halfway across the sitting room.

“Thanks Harry,” she said, depositing her grandchild into Violet’s arms. “I just need to nip out for a second, he was dancing on my bladder for ten minutes now.”

Violet took her godchild back over to her chair and held him, a little miffed that Andromeda had just left without talking to her. Sure, she was just here so Teddy could attend, but Violet had hoped to get to know her better. Never matter, as Ron took this as a cue to start talking to her.

“Have you seen this?” He said enthusiastically, holding up the brochure. “Auror’s a pretty good job right out of school.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great, Ron.” Violet said, hoping he would take the hint that she didn’t want to talk about it. She had seen the brochure previously, of course. She looked over to where a now obviously pregnant Fleur was chatting with Ginny. Ron said something.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear that.” She said, head turning back to Ron.

“Do you think we’ll need to study?” He repeated.

“Probably, but you’ll have no trouble.” Violet said.

“Yeah, can I have a look at your notes for it anyway?” He asked.

“I haven’t made any notes, Ron.” She said, clearly, he wasn’t taking any hints today. “I’m not going to sign up for it.”

“What?” He asked incredulously. “Why on earth not?”

“I just don’t really want to be an Auror anymore.”

“How could you not want to be an Auror? You’d be great at it.”

“It’s just not something I want to do anymore.” Violet said. Teddy gurgled in her lap and grabbed at her hair.

“Looks like someone thinks you need a haircut.” Mrs Weasley said, coming up behind her. “And I must say, I agree.”

“Men with long hair might be out of fashion when you were at Hogwarts, Molly, but Ted had hair down to his shoulders when we first met.” Andromeda said, returning and retrieving Teddy from Violet’s lap.

Violet bit her lip. She wasn’t a man with slightly longer hair than was generally acceptable. But she couldn’t say that. To any of them.

“Well, I suppose.” Mrs Weasley said, handing her a wrapped present. “Anyway, now you’re here Harry, let’s do presents.”

Various gifts that she would never use, forced smiles, and guilt at the Weasley family spending the money on her later, Violet walked outside to the table set up in the yard for lunch. She shouldn’t have come, this was just horrible, but she was here now so Violet affixed a fake smile to her face and sat down next to George.

“Hang on there, Harry.” George said. “That’s Fred’s seat.” His eyes widened as he realised his mistake, but Violet was already gone. She ran through the house and out past the apparition line.

She curled up on a couch in Grimmauld place, tears falling slowly, clutching her journal to her too-flat chest. At some stage she pulled a blanket over herself, still sobbing.

It was an easy mistake that George made, but that gave no comfort. If she had given herself up at the start of the battle, when Voldemort’s voice rang through the great hall just after Snape had fled, then he would still be here. Lupin and Tonks would probably be there too. They could be raising their own kid, instead of Andromeda.

She didn’t deserve to need to do that, Violet was Teddy’s god- godsomething. She should be there to look after him. But then she would just screw him up. She knew she would, somehow.

She wallowed there for a few minutes before the guilt numbed some, then went into the kitchen to wash her face. She set the journal on the table. A pop sounded in the hallway, signalling an arrival by apparition. Violet dragged the wet rag across her eyelids, under raised glassed.

“Harry?” Hermione called. Violet’s eyes filled with tears again. “Are you here?” Part of her wanted to stay silent, another won out.

“Here.” She said. Footsteps echoed around the house.

Hermione sighed, seeing Violet from the doorway. She conjured a handkerchief and lead her down to sit on one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen table.

“George is very sorry about what he said, Harry.” Hermione said. “He just forgot.”

Quite suddenly, not planning on it, she said something.

“No.”

“Of course, he is.” Hermione said.

“No, not Harry.” She said. Hermione stiffened with suspicion. “I’m still the same person, I’m just not _A_ Harry.”

“W- you mean you want to change your name?” She asked. “What to?”

“Violet.”

The name hung there for a few seconds.

“That’s a bit of a strange name for a boy to have.” She said.

“Yeah, but I’m not.” Violet said. “I’m a girl. I can’t ignore it anymore.”

“Oh, H-“ She cut herself off and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry.” Violet said, averting her eyes. Hermione grabbed her shoulders.

“Listen to me, you have nothing to be sorry about.” She said firmly. “It’s me who should be sorry, that you thought you couldn’t tell me before now.”

Violet and Hermione hugged again, holding tight while Violet cried joyful sobs into bushy hair. Eventually they pulled apart.

“You’re the first person I’ve told.” Violet said. Then realised she was lying, someone else did know she was a girl. Alice knew.” Well, sort of.”

“Sort of?” Hermione asked.

“It’s a long story, we should probably get back soon.” Violet sniffed, feeling a whole lot better now that even one person knew. “Just keep calling me Harry, and ‘He’ for now, I need to take my time for this.” Hermione looked at her a little sadly.

“Alright. If you’re sure.” She said. Violet mopped at her eyes with the handkerchief. “And if there’s anything else you ever need to talk to me about, or tell me, I’m here for you no matter the name.”

“Thanks Hermione.” She said and made to get up. In doing so, she knocked something from the table.

“I’ll get that.” Hermione said and picked the leather-bound journal up from the floor. A piece of paper fell out of it. Hermione picked that up too and stared at the name on it. “You’re keeping this?”

Violet turned and say it was the crumpled title page of Alice’s Uncyclopedia.

“Yeah, I’ve been keeping notes of some weird stuff.” She said. She pivoted to deflect. “and stuff I’ve found in the Black library.”

“Oh, what sort of stuff?” She said, tucking the page back in the book and joining her in walking back to the hallway.

“Well, apparently Morgana was… like me.”

“Really?”

“Well, the book said she was a witch who was ‘Princely born’ or something like that.” Violet said.

“How fascinating.” Hermione said. “I’m glad you’ve got something to occupy your time.”

They arrived back at the Burrow a few seconds later. It wasn’t difficult to smooth things over, and soon they were tucking into a rather delicious luncheon. It wasn’t until dessert that something interrupted Violet’s steady mood.

An owl, most likely Errol, dropped out of the sky and onto the table. Violet received a significant shock and her chair lost balance. She tumbled backwards through the hedge, and emerged into Wonderland; Herself at last.

“Whoa, this place is different.” Violet said. She had appeared on a cliffside into what seemed like a bottomless abyss. Although the cliffside was dotted with grass, the sky was stained red and grey from fumes billowing from a colossal metal sphere off in the distance. Right at the edge of the cliffside was a small structure, a covered station to be precise. It seemed in major need of repair. The sign above the opening into it hung crooked, the font was rather difficult to read but she could still make out ‘Looking Glass Railroad’. From it, out across the abyss, swayed a train track. The tracks vanished into the distance but it appeared that they headed towards the sphere. Violet stared around at everything.

“So,” asked Stowey Owl, appearing from behind the crooked sign. “Are you not going to follow this part of your shared psyche to its conclusion?” it cocked its head. “Or will you just stand there, bold as brass?”

“You’re a bit rude, you know that?” Violet said.

“I do know that.” The Owl said. Violet walked towards the station and noticed it was empty.

“How exactly am I supposed to do that?” She asked. “The station is quite empty.”

“Are you a witch or not?”

“Oh, of course.” Violet said, she reached into one of her pockets, then another, and then another. Feeling around until she felt a wooden handle. She pulled the Harpy’s Headwind out and mounted it side-saddle.

She set off across the tracks, following them at a few feet just in case she fell. It wasn’t likely, but she was still getting used to side-saddle.

It took quite a while to reach the sphere, which was indeed where the track led. This was actually a little surprising, she had expected it to go careening off somewhere. A large sign above the door said that the sphere was ‘Hatter’s Domain’.

She made her way to a little platform, made of the same bronze metal as the sphere itself, and jumped off. The tracks lead into the sphere, but a door was locked over that entrance. Violet glanced around and noticed a hole in the wall, a ticket booth.

“You might want to try upon, rather than inside.” Said Stowey Owl from inside the booth.

“Why are you even helping me if you’re going to be so rude?” Violet asked, re-mounting the broom and beginning to fly up, around the sphere. “Stupid Owl.”

Violet wound her way up and around, and finally reached the top. She looked in towards the flattened top of the sphere. Right in the middle was a long rectangular table, hosting many rather strange occupants. Six in all, the biggest sat with his back to her, he was at least the height of Hagrid, but thin and gangly, with a hunched back, from which emerged a gear wheel of burnished gold. He wore a white dress shirt, and wore a tall, crooked, checkerboard patterned top hap on his head.

Violet hopped off the broom and began to walk towards the table.

One of the occupants sniffed the air and pointed to her. The largest attendee turned his entire torso around. Violet was reminded eerily of her previous adventure into Wonderland. What she had thought was a dress shirt was in fact a white straitjacket, the arms undone and dragging along the floor.

“Well hello there!” He said in a strange but oddly jolly voice. “Pull up a chair, why don’t you? Any friend of Alice’s is a friend of mine.”

Violet internally shrugged and sat down at the table. From her new vantage point she was finally able to see who was sitting here properly.

“Ah, we must introduce ourselves to our newest guest.” The large one said. “I am Hatter, and this is my domain and tea party.” He gestured to the tea set arrayed around the table.

“We have Wowolf.” The one that sniffed the air and pointed her out seemed to be a grey old humanoid wolf, he wore patchwork clothes and coughed occasionally.

“Duckgoose.” A vibrantly pink duck.

“Dormouse.” A mouse that seemed to have parts of its body replaced with machinery, including wheel-like gears for legs.

“March Hare.” A rabbit who was similarly altered, except it had robotic legs instead of gears.

“And Twain.” Violet’s heart leapt in horror. It was a little boy. Or rather, half a little boy. He looked like someone had cut him in half right down the middle. Luckily, but rather ugly, was the scabs that completely sealed off the wound.

Hatter leaned in across the table.

“Who might you be?” he asked.

“Violet.” She said.

“Ah, our newest progenitor.” Hatter said. “Thank you ever so much for these new subjects. The old ones were getting rather full.” He gestured to the March Hare and Dormouse.

“I- “

“Change places!” Hatter shouted, and before Violet could recover from the shock the entire table but her had re-arranged. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Hatter encouraged. Violet tentatively got up from her chair and moved to the only other unoccupied chair.

“So, Duckgoose, how are you after that accident?” Hatter asked. “Would this clumsiness be fixed by implantation of a gyroscopic stabiliser?”

Violet took a moment to think as she sipped at her tea. Twain, Wowolf, and Duckgoose were new. Hatter attributed them to her. Her eyes widened. Oh no.

They were people she had known, people who had died for her. Fred, Lupin, and Tonks. It was all she could do to prevent herself from throwing up. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Are you alright, Miss Violet?” Wowolf asked from his seat beside her.

“I- I- I’m sorry, Lupin.” She said, slowly lowering her hand.

“Lupin?” Wowolf asked. “Don’t know who that is, but if you’re apologising to me, there’s really no need.”

“Lupin was… a teacher.”

“A teacher?” Dormouse asked, “What’s that?”

“He taught me about things.” She said, a little startled at the odd question.

“What happened to him?” Said Twain, the question sounded odd, coming from only half a voice box.

“Change places!” The Hatter commanded yet again. This time Violet did move with the others. She sat down near the end of the table, which held an empty seat.

“May I join you?” a voice asked from behind the seat.

“Miss Alice!” Said Hatter, as if he was pleased to see her, but not necessarily now. “Why of course.”

Alice Liddell sat down in the seat next to Violet.

“Hello again,” She said, smiling. “I promised I’d find you again, didn’t I?”

“Ah, you did.” Violet smiled back.

“So, Hatter, it seems you have some new underlings.” Alice directed to their host.

“Yes, although all very disappointing workers.” Hatter said. “The wolf is sickly, the duck clumsy, and the boy is only half as effective as he should be.”

“Enough of that, how are you three getting along, then?” Alice asked to the three.

“Oh, fine.” “As good as can be expected.” “Pardon? I only have one ear and you’re faced away from it.”

“I suppose that’s the main thing.” Alice said, rolling her eyes.

“Violet here was just telling us about her teacher, Lupin.” Dormouse said.

“Oh yes, tell us a story!” March Hare jumped and yelled.

“I- I suppose.” Violet said, resigning herself to tell a significantly abridged version of her story. “When I was 11, I went to this school called Hogwarts.”

“How bland a name is that.” Duckgoose said derisively. A choir of shushes sprang up around the table.

“And they had this one subject… Maths, where teachers would only last a year.” She said, choosing not to mention she was a witch just yet. “Lupin was one of those teachers, and it turned out he was a friend of my dad’s from school.”

As strange as the crowd was, they were a good crowd. They let her get on with the story, and by the time she finished she was allowing herself to be more flowery and descriptive, not needing to worry about the pain her voice caused her.

“What an interesting story.” Said Wowolf. “This Lupin sounds nice.”

“Yeah, he was really important to me.” Violet said.

“What would you want to say to him if he was here, Violet?” Alice asked, putting her hand over Violet’s on the tablecloth.

She took a deep breath, directed it to Wowolf, and said “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have died like that, you should be back home, looking after your son. You shouldn’t have died for me.” Violet turned away from the elderly wolf and sniffed.

“Violet, is there anyone else you might want to say things to?” Alice asked tenderly.

“Yeah,” She said, looking towards Duckgoose. “To Tonks, you shouldn’t have died either; I am so sorry, you had your whole life ahead of you. You should have had more time to do good in the Aur- police force.”

Violet sniffed again, and turned her attention to Twain. “And Fred, I’m sorry you died for me too. You should never have been separated from George. I hope you enjoyed Percy’s first joke.”

The table was in silence for several seconds before, far off, a whistle blew.

“Break’s over everyone!” Hatter shouted.

“Violet, we need to stand back.” Alice said, and tugged her out of the chair.

There was a hiss of escaping steam, and a hole opened beneath the table. The occupants, furniture, and tea set fell down the hole. It was all rather unceremoniously.

“Goodbye for now, Misses Alice and Violet.” The voice of Hatter vanished into the darkness.

Violet was just gobsmacked. She sat down and sniffed again at her tears. Alice sat down beside her on the floor of the roof.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here right away,” Alice said, “I have some trouble finding you.”

“It’s okay.” Violet said.

“No, really, meeting Hatter’s workforce was pretty bad for me the first time.” She said. “I had hoped you wouldn’t have to go through the same thing.”

“You mean Dormouse, and March Hare are…?”

“People I couldn’t save.” Alice said. “Other kids at the Home for Wayward Youth.”

“Wayward Youth?” Violet asked.

“My parents and- my parents died in a house fire when I was still young.” She said. “I’m an orphan. Or was? I’m not even really sure I count as alive at this point.”

“Me too.” Violet said. “Well, not really the second, although also kind of that. My parents were killed by-“ She sighed. “I should go back; in the real world I’m a witch.”

“Oh, like a pointy hat and broomstick?”

“Yes.”

“That makes sense, you have a broomstick in this world as well; I thought that was just symbolic.” Alice chuckled. “This place does make it a little difficult to separate literal from metaphor.”

“Yeah,” Violet agreed. “So, there was this prophecy made about me being able to defeat this dark wizard named Voldemort. He hunted me and my parents down and killed them. He tried to kill me, but something weird happened and he became like a ghost. That’s how I came to be known as the- “

Violet stopped. The ‘boy-who-lived’ never was right for her, but it would be a lie to tell Alice that she was known as the ‘girl-who-lived’.

“Alice? I need to tell you something.” She said, feeling much more confident than when she told Hermione earlier.

“What is it, Violet?”

“In the other world, I’m not… well, I’m different.” Violet said. “I’m a girl, but in the other world I have the body of a boy. I just don’t want to lie to you.”

“Oh, Vi.” Alice said, she pulled her into a one-armed hug. “It’s okay. I’m different here than how I was in the other world too; not the same way as you, but still different.” She breathed deeply. “I think in Wonderland we become our truest selves. In here I’m more confident, I don’t have breakdowns as much as before, although that might be recovery.”

“I was wondering what you were doing when you asked if I had anyone else to say stuff too.” Violet said.

“Yeah, like I said, Hatter’s workforce is made of people, or like, versions of them, that we couldn’t save.” Alice said, she slipped her hand on her shoulder to hug her waist. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I probably should.” Violet said. “Lord Voldemort came back a few years ago, and a few months ago there was a big battle at Hogwarts, my magic school. Those three:” she gestured at the pipe. “They’re reflections of people important to me who died there. People who didn’t have to die there if I had given myself up.”

“Violet, something I’ve learned over the years is that Dormouse and March Hare are not my fault.” Alice said. “And the versions of your friends in this world aren’t yours. Neither was their deaths.”

“I guess I kind of know that, but I can’t help but thinking I might be wrong.” Violet said. “It’s probably not a coincidence that after I finally defeated Voldemort the next morning was the first time I came to Wonderland.”

“No, probably not.” She sighed. She seemed like she was about to say something, but stopped.

“Thanks.”

“Thank you.”

They sat there in silence for a long while, watching the sun sink lower on the horizon, turning brilliant oranges and purples, pinks and even greens.

“Most people don’t know I’m a girl.” Violet said.

“I think most people are fools.” Alice said, smiling.

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Like I said, fools.”

Mirroring Alice’s arm, Violet slipped her own around Alice’s waist.

Violet didn’t know when she had fallen asleep, but she knew when she woke up in the Burrow that she was no longer in Wonderland. She was on one of the couches in the Burrow.

“Dad, Harry’s awake!” Ron yelled from somewhere.

Violet couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She curled in on herself, the blanket on top of her bunching where it was dragged.

“Harry?” Ron asked her.

“No. Not again.” She groaned. Her eyes flicked open. For a second there she had almost sounded like she did in Wonderland.

“What?” Ron asked, “What are you talking about, Harry? Wake up.”

Violet stealthily felt her chest. Flat as ever. She let out a sob. “Damn it.” She uncurled and turned around, feeling rather tired. She looked over at Ron’s face. “How long was I out?”

“Hours, mate.” He said. “Andromeda checked you over, said you’d just fallen asleep.”

“Sorry.” She said. Mr Weasley walked over.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“I’m fine, I just need to get home.” She said, wiping the beginnings of tears on her sleeve.

“You’ll do no such thing!” Mrs Weasley called over from the kitchen. Violet looked over to her, the window past her was dark. “I’ll not have you apparating in that state.”

“We’ve set up a camp bed in Ron’s room.” Mr Weasley said.

“Thank you.” She said, trying to push all the feeling she could into the word.

“Now that you’re awake, here.” Mrs Weasley hovered a plate of sandwiches over to her. they were made from the leftovers of her birthday lunch. Violet smiled and grabbed the plate out of the air. “Would anyone like anything else, pumpkin juice, tea?”

“Not tea.” Violet said weakly.


	5. Barrel and Beastie

It was weeks later before Violet decided to risk going out with her friends again. They had to be getting suspicious of her blackouts. Although she had no idea what was causing them, she absolutely did not want them to stop. Wonderland was the only place she could just be herself; she didn’t have to pretend to be a boy, or the boy-who-lived.

The topic of what was causing them rather intrigued her, if only for her own curiosity’s sake. What had started these episodes, and what triggered them individually? She referred to her notes of the ventures into Wonderland in her journal.

The first had happened just after she defeated Voldemort. Was it perhaps the destruction of the horcrux in her scar that set these trips in motion? Or maybe a softer reason, such as the closing of that chapter of her life, or maybe… there were quite a few possible reasons.

As to what caused the individual blackouts, the first and third times she had been rather shocked, and falling; but the second time she had just gone through a door. She had been put through the wringer emotionally all three times, that might be it.

Maybe it wasn’t even something on her end, maybe something in Wonderland called her there. Stowey Owl was a possibility, but he honestly seemed loath to see her. Perhaps Alice herself? she wasn’t there the first time though, and takes a while to find her. Whatever it was, she wrote down possibilities and such in the journal.

Violet’s research continued up to 4pm on the 31st of August. It was the last day before the new Hogwarts year, and although she and Ron weren’t going to be returning for their seventh years; Hermione was, and she wouldn’t see them until Christmas. As much as Violet wanted to avoid them, and the possibility of them becoming more interested in her blackouts, Hermione was her friend and she didn’t want her going off to school without seeing her.

That wasn’t her only trepidation for that evening. Hermione wanted her to talk to Ron about being a girl. Violet had tried to protest, saying the night shouldn’t be about her, that it was Hermione’s night. Hermione only insisted that Violet should talk to Ron, and knowing that she had done so would help to put her mind at ease while at Hogwarts. He was her best friend and deserved to know. So Violet relented.

This all lead her to 4pm, looking over her journal at her notes about telling people. She was becoming increasingly anxious as she glanced at the door to Grimmauld place every 5 minutes.

What would he say? Would he be accepting as Hermione? He would probably be confused, but she hoped he wouldn’t be upset at her. He’d be fine about it, wouldn’t he? Perhaps not. What if he thought she was making it up for attention? Like he had when she had been forced to participate in the Triwizard tournament. She gritted her teeth. What if he though the concept was foolish? That she couldn’t be a girl. That no one could be born in a body that wasn’t truly theirs.

What… what if he told others? Violet’s heart dropped in her chest. Surely, he wouldn’t.

But still, what if he did? What if he told the Weasleys? What if they hated her? What if?

No. she couldn’t think like that. Violet got up, leaving her journal on the couch, and went over to the kitchen. She grabbed a jug of water from the fridge and poured herself a glass.

She took a sip. The water slid down her throat, spreading a chill through her.

She heard a bang from somewhere. It made her jump, spilling the water down her front.

The wet stain dripped down and grew. Unnaturally so. Before Violet could make a sound, she was soaked through to her skin. Her hair pressed against her skull.

She blinked, and the world was right.

Violet was standing on the floor of a gigantic body of water, boards of wood beneath her feet, and surrounded by icy blue water.

“I’m dry?” Violet said, she also noticed that her voice was perfectly audible. She looked around. She was in the middle of some sort of village. It appeared to be made of shipwrecks, with tattered sails sprouting from their roofs. The light that shone above water didn’t make it down this far, but the area was lit with glowing spiral shells.

She was standing in a raised area of planks beside a pedestal. It was empty. A number of fish people were looking on at her in curiousity. And over there…

“Alice!” Violet said happily, waving over to the young woman. She was talking to a… fairy? Violet looked closer and saw that she was actually some sort of shellfish, the fleshy interior shaped into a crude humanoid shape, and the shells as wings. Alice turned as Violet began to walk over to her.

“Violet!” Alice smiled, just as dry as she. “This is most fortunate.” She gestured to the little shellfish. “Shirley here was just telling me about a problem Barrelbottom has been having, perhaps you could help out; you might have more experience with the area.”

“Oh, sure.” Violet said. “What’s been happening?”

“People have been disappearing!” Shirley squeaked. “Snatched in the dead of night!”

“Do you have any idea who might be doing it?” Alice asked.

“Not really.” She said. “Some of us thought it might be the mermaid village, but we’ve had no problems with them since they appeared.”

“Perhaps people have been abducted from there, also?” Violet asked.

“It’s certainly possible.” Alice agreed. She turned back to the oyster girl. “Has anything else out of the ordinary been happening around here?”

“Hmmm.” She thought for a second. “Mock Turtle has been coming into town every so often, we think he’s trying to fix his ship.”

“Perhaps he could be of assistance.” Alice said. “We’ll do our best to get to the bottom of these disappearances, Shirley.”

“Thank you both ever so much!” Shirley squeaked, and fluttered off to a group of other pixie-like oysters. Alice watched her go and turned back to Violet, she pulled her into a hug.

“Chesire Cat didn’t turn up to let me know you were here.” She said, separating.

“Oh, I just appeared over near that pedestal.” Violet said.

“Well that explains it, no need to.” Alice said. “Your… charming owl mightn’t turn up either, if we’ve already found each other, as well as adventure.”

“Stowey Owl is a jerk, no need to shy around it.” Violet said.

Violet’s eye was caught by the oysters, who were rather giggly. They were stealing glances at her and Alice. Alice followed her gaze.

“Don’t worry about them, they’re not laughing at you or anything, they’re just a little… flighty.”

“Seems odd for people who live underwater.”

“Yes, the Starlets are an odd bunch.” Alice said.

“Starlets?” Violet asked.

“Oh yes, they’re artists; singers, dancers, I’ve even seen some who do shadow puppetry.”

“What else could you expect from Wonderland?” Violet said, laughing. Alice gave a chuckle too. “Oh, and I can’t help but notice we’re perfectly dry underwater.”

“Honestly at this point I don’t think about that much.” Alice said conspiratorially.

“That’s probably a good policy.” Violet agreed. “So, where shall we be going first? The mermaid village, or to see this Mock Turtle person?”

“Probably to Mock Turtle, I haven’t been around here in a bit,” Alice said. “I’m not really sure where the mermaid village is.”

“Good idea.” Violet said. “So, which way is it?”

“Just follow me.” Alice smiled, and started walking toward the edge of the village. Surprisingly, they were both able to walk just as well as if they were on land. In fact, it was like they weren’t underwater at all.

“Who is this Mock Turtle?” Violet asked.

“Well…” Alice blushed a bit. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Sure.” Violet said, raising an eyebrow.

“Wonderland began to form from me when I was rather young. And I had heard of Mock Turtle Stew, not realising what that meant, I figured that there was an animal called a ‘Mock turtle’. I know better now, of course, but he’s not changed in the slightest.”

Violet stifled a small laugh.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, it’s just that is so adorable.” She said.

“Whatever…” Alice turned away, but Violet was fairly sure she was blushing even harder now.

Alice’s head snapped left suddenly, her narrowed eyes looking out into the sea.

“What is it?” Violet asked, looking as well.

“Something.” Alice said. “I’m not sure. Maybe some sort of fish.”

They continued their trek, with both of them occasionally checking over their shoulders for anything following them. Conversation continued, and Alice recounted the story of how she had freed the Oyster starlets from the Carpenter and the Walrus; and how they had kept her occupied finding things for a musical.

“Walrus was in it for the food, Carpenter was power-hungry.” She said. “He built Barrelbottom.”

“What happened to them?” Violet asked.

“The brig, for a time. Then they were released after the sentence was up.” She said. “Carpenter is one of the missing people.”

“They were just let go?” Violet asked.

“It was an unstable time, which was… it was understandable, at least.” Alice said. She jumped up slightly, and floated down. She pointed into the distance. “Mock Turtle’s ship is just down there.”

Violet jumped in the water, staring in the direction Alice had pointed. There was indeed a ship there, an old broken vessel, with massive holes in the side. And the whole thing was enclosed in a large, clear, glass bottle. Cracks webbed the surface exposed to the surrounding area.

“Is that…?” Violet began to ask then faded off.

“Yep, don’t ask me how it goes underwater though.” She said.

“Another thing we just need to accept as normal here?” Violet grinned.

“Yes.” Alice said.

Violet slapped her hand to her head.

“Why are we walking?” She asked the open ocean. “We could be flying on my Harpy.”

“Probably not the best idea.” Alice said. “If we go up too high the Shipwreck sharks might take notice.”

“Oh.”

“Never matter, we’re here now.” She said, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out. “Turtle? Are you in there?”

There was silence for a few seconds, then a shuffling inside the ship, and then a window in its side opened to expose the head of some sort of cow.

“Alice? Oh, dear me, hello.” Mock Turtle greeted her. He turned to Violet. “And who’s this?”

Alice looked to violet and gestured for her to introduce herself.

“I’m Violet.” She said. A grin made itself known at the edges of her mouth.

“Hello Miss Violet. Please both of you come aboard.” His head vanished from the window, and a few seconds later he tottered out onto the deck with a long wooden plank.

“This way.” Alice said, and led Violet around to the neck of the bottle. Mock Turtle, who was easily as small as professor Flitwick, and had a turtle shell, lay the plank from the bottle opening to the ship’s deck.

Alice went first, she crawled through the narrow neck and onto the plank.

“Come on.” Alice said, when she had cleared the neck.

“Okay.” Violet said, and climbed into the bottle as well, following Alice across the plank.

She tried to keep her mind (and eyes) focussed on the plank below her, but every now and again it drifted up to where Alice was crawling in front of her. Violet mentally admonished herself for this.

Alice grabbed a hold of the long mast-like trunk pointing up and out from the front of the ship and used it to pull her up before jumping down to the deck. Violet followed her lead, and Alice lent her a hand in jumping down.

The ship looked to have undergone significant repairs. Planks of driftwood were nailed over holes and splits in the side using nail-like seashells. Crudely blown glass was pressed into a spiderweb of cracks in the bottle. The sail had been replaced by a dozen stitched together bedsheets.

“The repairs are going well I see.” Alice said.

“Quite well, it should be up and ready to sail again soon.” Mock Turtle said, and began to lead the pair over into the captain’s cabin at the send of the ship. The door swung open to reveal a table and a floating tea set. “I’m afraid I’m all out of tea, but I shifted some barrels the other day and found a peculiar store of sweet orange beverage.”

“That’s probably my doing.” Violet said. “We’re still figuring out, but all this new stuff in Wonderland is from me.”

“Another artist of landscape? How incredible.” He chortled, sitting down and drawing a bottle from nowhere. “I had thought it might be the case, what with your similarity to Alice.”

“Similarity, sir?”

“Nonsense, you must call me Turtle.” He said. “Your manner, style of dress, and quirks.” He poured each of them some of the orange liquid into a teacup, one of which was out of his reach. The liquid arced and swirled in mid-water as it made its way into the china. The cups began to drift down to the table, saucers finding a place beneath them. Violet gripped the handle of her cup and took a sip.

“Butterbeer.” She declared, smiling slightly. Alice took a taste too.

“Ooh. That is very nice.” She said.

“It is the tiniest bit alcoholic, so we shouldn’t drink much.” Violet said.

“All the better to have on a sea ship.” Turtle said happily. “I’ve taken a liking to it. So, what can I help you two with today?”

“We’ve just come from Barrelbottom, it seems citizens have been disappearing recently.” Alice said. “And we were wondering if you had seen anything suspicious.”

“I hope you’re not implying I had anything to do with the disappearances?” Turtle said coyly.

“Of course not, we were just-“ Violet began to say, but was cut off by Turtle.

“It’s quite alright, I was just teasing.” He said. “As a matter of fact, the Shipwreck Sharks have been unusually quiet lately.”

“Hmm.” Alice said in thought. “Any idea what it could mean?”

“In my experience, there is only one time a group of predators like that duck and cover.” Turtle said. Then he clarified. “There’s always a bigger fish.”

“You think there’s something out there that’s scaring them?” Alice asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m really not sure what else it could be.” He said. “Really, I’m half thankful for it, without the sharks I’m very close to getting this ship up and running again.”

“Unfortunately, we might have to take it down, if it’s been what’s taking the villagers.” Violet said.

“No bother, not at all, with the ship fixed I can move on and away from their aggressions.” Turtle said, and reached under his hat. “I haven’t had use of my stinger for weeks now.” He removed a rod from underneath his hat. The handle was coated in thick rubber, and it stretched about a foot, the last two inches being taken up by a rounded Y leading to two metal points.

“I don’t recognize this.” Alice said. “What is it?”

“It looks like a wand.” Violet said. “But metal instead of wood.”

“I found it quick good at repelling the sharks for the few days after I found it.”

“Hmm” Alice said, pressing a finger to her chin and thinking for a second. She seemed to come to a conclusion, because she reached out to Turtle. “Turtle, could we borrow that?”

“Why of course, Miss Alice.” he handed over the rod. Alice took it tentatively in one hand and held it out to Violet.

“Try it.” She said. “You’ll probably need something to protect you here, and the Headwind doesn’t seem very offense oriented.”

“Oh, yeah.” Violet said. “I guess I never really thought about it, but this place can get quite dangerous.” She took it by the handle and electricity arced between the tines.

“Fascinating.” Alice said. “it’s like lightning, but smaller.”

“Electricity.” Violet clarified. “So, it probably came from me, but I don’t know what it is.” She frowned slightly.

“It might not even be a real thing, just some symbolic remanent.” Alice shrugged.

Violet pocketed the device and turned back to Mock Turtle.

“Thank you Turtle, I’m sure it will be helpful in getting to the bottom of this mess.”

“You’re more than welcome, Miss Violet.” Turtle said. “Your arrival has brought many good things for me, the least I can do is return the favour.”

“Oh, we were looking to head to the new village, the merpeoples’ one, next.” Alice said.

“That’s quite the pleasant heading,” Turtle said, and got up from the table. “Follow me out onto the deck and I’ll point you the right way.”


	6. Leviathan

After Turtle pointed them in the right direction; ‘towards that brain shaped coral, then double back and head past the ship’. The pair set off again, walking along the sea floor.

“So, what do you think of him?” Alice asked.

“He’s remarkably normal, for this place.” Violet replied.

“He is that.” Alice said. “He’s helped me a lot over the years. If he had aspirations beyond fixing his boat, I’d almost swear he was another of us.”

“He’d be good company, not that you aren’t lovely.” Violet said.

“Thank you, Vi-“ Alice stopped suddenly. She drew a large staff, upon which was a horse-head shaped carving, and pointed it to a clump of seaweed. “Reveal yourself, eavesdropper.”

There was silence for a few seconds, before a pair of finned arms poked up above the seaweed in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry, sorry.” A bright voice said from below the arms.

“Come out.” Violet said, trying to sound more inviting than Alice.

“I meant no aggression, misses.” The mermaid said as she swum out from behind the greenery. She had short silvery hair, sharp teeth, and scales all over her. Alice stood the Hobby Horse on the ground. “I merely swam off the path to chase a pufferfish, and you arrived just as I came back.”

“And where is this ‘Pufferfish’ now?” Asked Alice.

“Well, it got away.” She said. “It puffed up, a cheating stratagem if I had ever seen one.”

“I thought Pufferfish were really poisonous?” Violet said. “why were you trying to catch one?”

“Well,” She blushed a little. “Pufferfish venom is rather poisonous, but in miniscule quantities it can provide… relaxing effects.”

“You were chasing it like the upper class does the poppy? What a strange fish.” Alice said, raising one eyebrow. There was an awkward silence, Violet wondered whether the ‘strange fish’ referred to the mermaid or her quarry.

“My name’s Elpis.” The mermaid said, drifting closer and offering her hands for them to shake, arms crossing over.

Truth be told, Violet was hesitant to take it; her singular previous encounter with people who bore the prefix of ‘Mer’ wasn’t exactly the best. Although Elpis did look far different than the Merpeople who lived in the black lake at Hogwarts.

She was still pretty far from what the muggle image of a mermaid was. Her vertical tail swished from side to side, evenly tapering to a fin. A ridge ran up her middle on her front and back. There was no mistaking her for an actress wearing a suit. She had long, webbed fingers and a slim face with small lips. A single gill flap opened to the water along where her collarbones would be. The mottled silver scales on her underside smoothly became periwinkle blue on her sides.

“Hello there, Elpis.” Alice said.

“What are you two doing out here, if you don’t mind me asking?” Elpis asked.

“We’re heading to your village, as it turns out.” Said Violet.

“Really? Well good luck finding it.” She said.

“Is it hidden?” Violet asked.

“Well not exactly, but we’re on high alert at the moment.” Elpis said. She moved closer to whisper conspiratorially in their ears. “People have been going missing.”

“Oh, excellent!” Alice smiled. She must have realised how that might sound, so she clarified quickly. “We’re looking for people missing from Barrel Bottom. The disappearances from your village may be related.”

“We’re looking for clues.” Violet said.

“Well then that is excellent!” Elpis said. “Please, allow me to escort you to Jarha, that’s what we’ve called our village.”

“Thank you.” Violet said. Elpis began slowly swimming above the path, and Violet began to walk alongside her.

A few metres down the road Violet noticed that Alice wasn’t following them. She turned around, just in time to see Alice begin to walk after them.

“What’s up?” Violet asked her.

“I’m not quite entirely sure.” Alice said, frowning.

“Let me know if you need to sit down for a bit or something, ok?” Violet said.

“Thank you.”

They followed Elpis for a while in silence.

“You appeared recently, did you not?” Alice asked.

“Only a few months ago, yes.” Elpis said, turning to them and swimming backwards. “It was ever so startling. One second we didn’t exist, and then the next we did, and the one after we began to take form.”

“That must have been rather startling.” Alice said.

“I guess so, but since then it’s like we’ve always been here.” Elpis said. “I guess it would be like reading a book, when you’re finished it begins to blur into the minutia of your experiences.”

“You’re quite the poet.” Violet said.

“Thank you, but it’s all just practise.” Elpis said, shrugging it off.

“Just because you practised doesn’t mean your talent is worth any less.”

“Maybe, but I would rather not practise.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Elpis slowed slightly in her swimming and turned back to going forwards. “My mother is the chieftainess, so I never really needed to learn how to fish.”

“How terrible.” Said Alice, with only a hint of sincerity in her voice.

“It is. I’d like to learn, but she’s so paranoid about the disappearances she doesn’t let me leave the village.”

“But you found a way to sneak out?” Violet guessed.

“Yes. I know my poetry has value, but I can’t help but feel that I’d be better use elsewhere.” Elpis said. “Not that she forces me to practise, its just that I’ve got so much free time I don’t know what else to do with it.”

There was a deep whooshing sound, and Violet turned around. There was a torrent of water coming up the path behind them.

“Grab hold of something, quickly!” She shouted. They dived off the path and in front of a lard spiral shell jutting out of the sand.

The torrent advanced quickly, and they clung to the shell as it passed with a great whoosh.

Violet’s head was forced back and hit the rock by the force of it. Her mind frazzled, she saw something. Far above them a silhouette passed. The sight of it chilled Violet to her heart.

It was a snake.

Curving and slithering through the water, holding a limp body in its mouth.

The seconds ticked by, Violet not making a sound lest the serpent hear them in the abnormal water. Then, just as swiftly as it had come, the torrent vanished, and the snake vanished with it.


End file.
